


Only Heaven Knows How Far We Are

by tookumade



Series: Heart Reign [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Established Relationship, Feelings, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 03:21:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20987984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: When Suna thinks of summer, he thinks of Osamu.&Suna would always remind Osamu of winter.





	Only Heaven Knows How Far We Are

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY SUNAOSA DAY! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> The first half of this fic takes place sometime between [_A Day By Atmosphere Supreme_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617652/) and [_In The Corners Of Our Name_.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724169)  
The second half takes place in the near future, after _In The Corners Of Our Name_.  
Slowly working on the sequel...!

When Suna thinks of summer, he thinks of Osamu.  
  
He thinks of the air humid enough to sometimes feel like breathing in water, and of training camp days that felt endless, and yet, they’d fight through them every time; he thinks of Osamu, and how he somehow makes those days more bearable. He thinks of orange juice bottles tossed to him with an ease that’s partially reckless, but Osamu catches them every time; cicadas screeching in the afternoon setting sun as they walked home together, hand-in-hand because it’s too hot to link arms like Osamu usually likes, but they still want to be able to feel each other’s touch. He thinks of Osamu, hose in hand and chasing Suna through the training camp grounds, wide grin on his face and the sun dipping slowly over the horizon behind him, and what wouldn’t he give, if he could give Osamu the world?  
  
“Aah,” says Osamu, when Suna walks up behind him, sitting outside the gymnasium on a drink break during training, and slowly pours a thin trickle of cold water over his head. “Ooh, that’s nice actually.”  
  
Suna dumps a towel and a second bottle into his lap, before sitting beside him. “You gotta stay hydrated, dumbass. You really think Atsumu’s gonna let it go if you pass out from training because you forgot to have a drink?”  
  
“Of course not, I’m not _that_ stupid,” Osamu mutters, towelling the water from his eyes and hair before taking a sip of water. “He’s been a dick all morning, why should anything change?”  
  
“Want me to have a word with him?”  
  
“Nah, I just have to aim a few serves at his head and he’ll get the point. Maybe. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and hit him.”  
  
“We could sic Gin onto him.”  
  
“Hmm… that could work.”  
  
He’s a tiny bit cranky, either because he’s tired, or annoyed at Atsumu’s merciless training today, or both, but leaning towards being annoyed. They’ve got a string of practise matches coming up, and Suna knows Osamu well enough to know he’ll never back down from a challenge to better himself, especially when it’s his twin challenging him, but he also knows that Osamu is only human.  
  
Suna taps his own shoulder, and Osamu looks at him, tosses up his options for a second, and then scoots over and slouches to lean his head against it.  
  
It’s hot, humid, and stifling, and they’re both sweaty and tired, and it’s gross. But they don’t move. Truth be told, Suna comes close to hating the summer in general, but when Osamu is here, it’s not so bad. He’s not sure what it is, what magic Osamu casts to make Suna think that the oppressive heat is almost… likeable. He wants to try to understand it, someday.  
  
But not today.  
  
Today, Ginjima pokes his head out the gymnasium door and calls them both inside to continue training. Suna makes a note to send him to talk to Atsumu after all, and get him to ease up on his spartan training, because Atsumu always listens to Ginjima more than anyone else. Which isn’t saying a lot, but still—small victories.  
  
“Ready to go?” Suna says to Osamu when Ginjima retreats back inside.  
  
“Mm.” For a moment, Osamu laces their fingers together and gives his hand a little squeeze. “Thanks, Suna.”  
  
Suna smiles slightly. “Back to ‘Suna’? I was getting used to you calling me ‘Rin’.”  
  
“I thought you didn’t like it.”  
  
“Says who?”  
  
“Well, I mean… you’d sort of freeze up whenever I said it. So I just figured I’d stop.”  
  
Freeze up? Huh. He wasn’t being subtle about it, then? His parents and most of his family members call him ‘Rin-chan’, and his parents only use ‘Rintarou’ whenever he’s in trouble. Osamu’s really the only one to call him ‘Rin’, and it’d taken a little getting used to, sure, he’d freeze up a bit, sure, his heart would skip a beat or just stutter out of rhythm, sure, and he’d feel a warmth burst in his cheeks, sure, but…  
  
“‘Rin’ is fine,” he murmurs. “I like it.”  
  
He hears Osamu huff a little laugh. “Okay… Rin.”  
  
Heart stutters. A warmth, somewhere nearby in his chest. In his cheeks, too. He probably couldn’t have been subtle about it even if he’d tried. He, too, squeezes Osamu’s hand.  
  
Their nice little moment is interrupted by Atsumu now, appearing at the door and yelling, “_Hey, come on, we’ve got practice to go through, you slackers!_” and then promptly disappearing again, because for all his talk and attitude, it’s a fact that he can only stand to be near Suna and Osamu when they’re being ‘lovey-dovey’ (his words, not their’s) for a few seconds at a time. Again, small victories.  
  
“Jump serves,” Osamu whispers as they begin to stand. “Just you watch.”  
  
“I’m betting on it,” says Suna. “I might even try one myself.”  
  
“I’ll give you pointers.”  
  
“I’m counting on you.”  
  
And with an exchange of grins, he presses a kiss to Osamu’s knuckles, and they re-enter the gymnasium.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  
Suna would always remind Osamu of winter.  
  
His birthday is right in the middle of winter, for one thing. He’d confessed his feelings for Osamu at the start of winter, for another. They’d broken up at the tail-end of autumn.  
  
He thinks of the scarves Suna would pinch from him and wear around shamelessly like he owned them; linking their arms together and huddling for warmth as they walked to and from school, nudging each other and joking about one thing or another; resting his head on Suna’s shoulder and falling asleep half the time; pressing close enough against him that sometimes, he can feel Suna’s pulse. He thinks of speeding down the streets neighbouring their school and not stopping until Suna gave him answers as to why he was avoiding him; of gripping Suna’s shirtfront like it’d take all the force of the sky splitting for Osamu to let go. “_I’m sorry. I really like you_.” He thinks of a quiet conversation by the riverside, leaving a piece of his broken heart there, and then walking away, only it wasn’t just his heart, was it? A piece of Suna’s was left there, too.  
  
Probably.  
  
Maybe?  
  
It’s been a while since they had last seen each other—a little over half a year, if Osamu isn’t mistaken. He and Atsumu had both moved out of home to go on to play for their different universities’ volleyball teams, which kept them busy enough that trips back home were scarcer than their parents would’ve liked. The last time they had both managed a reunion of sorts with their high-school teammates was sometime around the end of their first year, but it had been a larger reunion then, with more former teammates, and Suna had to leave a little early to finish work on a major research project.  
  
So it… it’d been a while.  
  
Tonight, he and Atsumu are walking over to a burger-and-steak restaurant where they’d be catching up with Suna, Ginjima, and Kosaku. According to their Line chat, Kosaku had arrived early, but since it’s cold out, the waitstaff had let him sit at their table first; Ginjima was scheduled to arrive a little later than the twins, because his father had picked a few bags of mandarins for everyone from their tree and insisted he handed them out; upon hearing he was meeting high-school friends for dinner, Suna’s mother had made a batch of mont blanc cupcakes for everyone, and had fussed about the containers to put them into, which was why he was running late.  
  
“You and Rintarou aren’t weird around each other, are you?” Atsumu asks as they walk. “It’s not gonna be awkward, is it?”  
  
All the delicacy of a rampaging bull. Osamu keeps his face blank as he scrolls through their Line chat. “No, we’re fine,” he says. “We broke up on good terms, remember?”  
  
“Mm…”  
  
Osamu throws him a frown, now. “What?”  
  
“I dunno,” Atsumu says with a shrug. “Yeah, you’re still friends, but you overthink, sometimes.”  
  
“I do _not_.”  
  
Atsumu throws him a disbelieving look. “Hell _yeah_, you do! I can see it on your face! You’re already thinking about where you should sit, and whether or not you want to sit next to him, and if you want to be able to see him clearly or not!”  
  
“I’m—th—_what?_”  
  
“I’m your twin, I can read your mind.”  
  
“Then, are you thinking, ‘Atsumu is a flaming pile of horse shit’ because that’s what I’m thinking right now.”  
  
“You just can’t handle the truth, you delicate child. Anyway, the restaurant’s not far up ahead, so take your time pondering for all I care. I’m gonna get out of the cold.”  
  
And before Osamu can fire back a response, Atsumu breaks into a light jog towards the restaurant, with an infuriatingly smug spring in his step.  
  
“_Shithead_,” Osamu mutters, adjusting his scarf.  
  
The thing is… how the _hell_ did Atsumu know all that? Yeah, they knew each other well, but they weren’t _telepathic_. Not… most of the time, anyway.  
  
But truth be told, Osamu really was thinking about where to sit. In his thoughts are an odd conflicting ‘_I’d be okay sitting next to him_’ and ‘_hell no_’. It catches him off-guard for a moment. How would he feel if Suna sat next to him? Would he feel disappointed if he didn’t? Would he be tense the whole time if he did?  
  
And in the same vein of conflicting thoughts, Osamu had so much he wanted to tell him, and then nothing he wanted to say. He’s a regular pinch server for his volleyball team, and the coach had been pleased with his progress, and hinted he’d likely move up to a regular starting position, soon, especially with one of their staple wing spikers graduating this year. On the other hand, he had made his volleyball team’s bench in his first year, but not the starting line-up like he’d promised to Suna that day by the riverside. There’s a feeling of something like _shame_ that pricks at his chest, but he knows if he told Suna that, Suna would simply smile, bemused, lean over to press a kiss to his temple or his hair, and affectionately call him a dumbass, and ask what was so wrong with making the bench of his university team in just his first year?  
  
Except not. Because they weren’t dating anymore. There might be a confused smile and a semi-gentle ‘dumbass’, but that was probably the extent of it.  
  
There’s a twinge of disappointment in his chest, now, nestling itself beside that prickle of shame, and Osamu still isn’t sure, but that answers a few more questions for him: he and Suna don’t have what they used to have, and that disappoints him. To what extent—whether he’s disappointed they aren’t dating anymore, or whether these are just residue feelings surfacing over meeting an ex-boyfriend he hadn’t seen in a while—he isn’t sure.  
  
But he supposes, taking his time like this in the cold wasn’t going to answer more questions for him. Atsumu was—Osamu grits his teeth, disliking admitting it—right. Sometimes, Osamu thought too much.  
  
It might be nice to see Suna again. Or, Osamu might be on edge the whole time. But they’ll be in the company of friends (plus his jackass of a brother), and there would be good hot food and drinks waiting for them. He can see the restaurant up ahead.  
  
His phone buzzes in his hand, signalling he’d received a message.  
  
  
**From: Atsumu**  
They’ve given us a round table so ur screwed regardless of seating placement hahaha  
  
  
Swearing under his breath, Osamu shoves his phone into his pocket, takes a deep breath, and picks up his pace.  


**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/naffnuffnice) | [tumblr](https://naff-nuff-nice.tumblr.com/)


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